From Both Sides Now
by DeathByMushrooms
Summary: If they had had time to grow as individuals, time to make mistakes and collect some scars, would things have been different? AU ADDEK in which Derek moved to Seattle after residency and Addison married someone else. Set in New York circa 2001.
1. Chapter 1

**A few things first... **Title comes from the song "Both Sides, Now" by Joni Mitchell. I actually made a playlist for while I'm writing this fanfiction. It's called "Pens (From Both Sides Now)" and you can search for it on Spotify if you're interested in some relevant background noise as you read. Remember, this is Addek, _not_ Maddison, and be aware of changing points of view for each chapter (though most will be Addison).

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_Just before our love got lost you said,  
"I am as constant as a northern star"  
And I said, "Constantly in the darkness  
Where's that at?  
If you want me I'll be in the bar."  
-_**A Case of You,** Joni Mitchell

* * *

Addison rolled off and away from him to stare at the ceiling, Persian-green sheets pulled up to her chin, matching eyes wide with fixation on nothing in particular. It was eleven-fifteen, but she didn't need to see the alarm clock to know that; it was _always _eleven-fifteen when her husband's snores reached her ears. And so it had been for three years. They had wed in a casual haste—casual, because Montgomeries did not have panicky shotgun weddings, even in the midst of a panicky shotgun wedding. People had certainly talked, but she had not cared. She had loved her husband, loved the child growing in her womb. Yet, she still seemed to be naked and unfulfilled while the man next to her slowly dragged the covers toward him in his sleep.

Rolling over onto her side, she had a clear view of Central Park through the other side of the floor-to-ceiling picture window across the room. Her usual eleven-seventeen vista. It was truly breathtaking, or so the realtor had told them. And, spying her burgeoning belly, having such close proximity to the park, the brownstone would be ideal for a new family. Initially, her husband had not wanted to touch any of Addison's trust fund, but she could see in his eyes how much he wanted this place. So she bought it. He had not been very happy about that, Addison reflected, but more important things had come their way not long after, and everything else had been put onto the back burner. For a while, that burner had included her, too, but after thousands of dollars in couples' therapy, they managed to make time for one another again—always between eleven and eleven-fifteen p.m.

Lying virtually alone in the dark, unable to sleep even though she was perpetually exhausted, was not how Addison Montgomery had planned to live her life as a girl, or even just five years ago. Granted, her childhood had not quite been picturesque, either. Things could be worse, though. She worked at a private hospital with her best friend, Naomi, and her husband had recently made partner at a private practice, which came with a large pay increase and regular hours. Her best friend's husband, Sam, worked nearby, so it was easy for the four of them to get together often. Even still, they rarely did. Addison was hardly the only person having relationship troubles. Her brother, Archer, was a short cab ride away, but now that she thought about it, she had not heard from him for quite some time. He had stopped hanging around so much after the wedding, and the baby... Derek had taken a job in Seattle, too, around two years ago. She imagined it was not exactly fun being the third or, often, fifth wheel all the time. And she knew Mark had become "too busy" for his friend since taking the job at the practice. Truth be told, Addison rather missed the years the three of them had spent as interns. Sam and Naomi had taken internships in Boston, but Addison, Mark, and Derek had always been inseparable. Then everything had fallen apart, as good things in her life had the tendency to do. Sam and Naomi got married and moved back to the city, but things were not the same.

Many things weren't, and every night, Addison Montgomery, who had opted not to take her husband's last name, sent out her silent laments. She had never been religious, never been certain about what was out there or what came next or if anything even mattered—but every night, she would recount all the things keeping her awake, and they were the like her prayers. Her daughter, her marriage, her friendships, her job—these were high on the list. And it seemed like every night the list became longer, and sleep became another minute delayed. Tonight, she added her linens to the list. Far down, past her new Jimmy Choo's giving her blisters, but she was cold.

Come morning, Addison jarred awake, as often she did, for no particular reason at all. She frowned at the empty expanse of her four-poster, manicured brows knitted at the smell of bacon. A glance at the alarm clock on Mark's side of the bed told her it was nine a.m. Still half-asleep, she panicked, wondering how she had slept in so late. As she bounded out of bed, throwing on a silken blue robe, she remembered that it was Saturday. She had already forgotten about the three-day weekend, that she didn't have to work today. Neither did Mark. Days like these were more stressful than they probably should have been.

"Hey," he said, though he was at the stove with his back to her when she entered the kitchen. "You really slept in."

"Yeah, I just—well, I was thirsty in the middle of the night, thought a Coke sounded nice. But it just gave me a caffeine buzz." She knew she probably wasn't fooling him—especially since she typically did not even drink soda—but it was better than the truth.

He didn't turn around, just flipped an egg and nodded silently. Lack of verbal response from Mark was a very big statement itself, she knew, but she was not about to offer up anymore information, lest he begin treating her like something easily broken again.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you last night; how did your big surgery go?" She slid onto a bar stool at the island counter and began peeling a banana from the fruit bowl in front of her.

"It didn't." He was turning off burners and dividing food onto plates—fried eggs and bacon for him, poached on whole grain for her. Now that she got a look at him, she couldn't help the jealousy that crept upon her. He looked so energetic and youthful, like he had hardly aged a day since beginning medical school some ten years ago, like he slept well every night. Addison knew she had to look rough, but she knew that if nothing else, her husband would not judge her for it.

"Reschedule, I hope...?" She found she didn't have the stomach to discuss death this morning. Or for anything on the ceramic plate the plastic surgeon had set before her.

He nodded again, sliding into the seat next to her a little more heavily than was probably necessary. "The melanomas are spreading, chemo isn't working like it should be. Kid needs a good ortho on this, and neuro on top of that." He frowned deeply, then bitterly tore a corner from his toast. "It's a good thing Derek's moving back. I can't stand Dr. Andersen.

She of course knew of his dislike for the neurosurgeon in his practice; it was not something he exactly tried to hide from anyone. The news about their old friend was a bit surprising though. "You didn't tell me that."

"What? Yeah, I totally did. I told you last week, as soon as I found out." He gaped at her incredulously.

Maybe he had, but she just hadn't been paying him any attention. It would hardly be the first time ... he really did talk quite a lot. "I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood you." She took a sip of the coffee Mark had given her with her plate. "But that's really good to hear. I never could picture him in Seattle, sitting in a cafe listening to grunge. Isn't that an odd thought?" She couldn't help smiling at her own joke.

Mark shrugged, mouth full of bacon. "I think you would be surprised, Add. He was engaged, you know. Seemed pretty happy there."

"I recall. Is he bringing this fiancee with him?" After Derek had left New York, they had ceased contact. It hadn't felt deliberate to Addison; he had been more Mark's friend than hers, and she knew if she wrote or called him, it would feel out of place. She and Mark were married now... most of her friends had suddenly become women. Besides, she was never entirely sure if Derek even _liked_ her at all; he had always been a bit distant, almost as if he only hung out with her because of Mark.

Her husband was piling eggs onto his toast, not bothering to look away from his work. "It didn't sound like it. I think they might have broken up."

"You mean you didn't ask? Mark, these are the kinds of things you ask people about."

He glanced up, and she could see the annoyance in his eyes—blue, paler than hers, blue like their daughter's. "No, these are the kinds of things _you_ ask people, Addison. _I_ asked him when he would be here, where he would be staying, what date he would start work at the practice."

"He's going to be working with you?" She sipped her coffee, having decided that breakfast was just not in the cards this morning.

She saw his aggravation shift to exasperation as he wiped his hands on a napkin, and wondered if he knew just how easy to read he was. "Addison, I just said that. But yes, and you know, they want to make him partner? I've been there_ three years_ and they've only just asked me. Why would they make him partner when they haven't even met him?"

"To be fair, you _did_ only just complete your fellowship. Anyway, maybe those were the terms, or else he wouldn't leave Seattle. He really is a brilliant surgeon; who else finishes up a fellowship in just one year?" She knew she had struck a nerve before her sentence was finished. For all his showboating and gloating, she knew he had always felt inadequate next to his friend.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "He'll be staying in an apartment near here. Just a couple blocks. It'll be like old times." He grinned now, and she knew he must be recalling long nights, girls he had managed not to impregnate, and plenty of trouble that she likely knew nothing about. The Mark of 2001 was not the Mark of the early nineties, though often she could feel that person trying to escape. That person, Nineties Mark, was not designed for marriage. She tried not to think about it, but she knew he felt trapped with her. She wasn't even sure why they were still trying to make things work at this point. She reminded herself that she loved him.

"When will he be here?" Maybe she could rally the troops and throw her friend a welcome home party … provided he still called New York home. No doubt two years across the country would change a person. She still couldn't picture her old friend as a Washingtonian.

"Monday," answered Mark as he took his plate to the sink. "He said his plane lands at eleven a.m. And I was wondering if maybe you could pick him up? I know you're off work that day, and a familiar face would do him good."

She really did not want to do that. "Okay," she found herself saying anyway.

The rest of Addison's weekend consisted of much the usual. She went shopping, made dinner, had lunch with her friend Sav, then stayed in and ordered Chinese, which she ate in the solitude of her office on Sunday evening. Mark was out. He used to bother with telling her where he was going, but he often did not anymore. She assumed he was watching sports at a bar, or maybe with Sam or Weiss or any of his other friends. Sometimes, she even wondered if he was with another woman. She could hardly blame him if he was, given how lackluster their lovemaking—once the highlight of their relationship—had become. But she still felt it unlikely; her husband was a good man, however much he might like to flirt or stare.

It was with these thougts filling her head that Addison climbed the stairs at eleven o'clock. There was still no husband beside her by eleven-fifteen, but despite how she knew she should feel about it, she could only smile. Tonight was different. Tomorrow, even more things would be different. She said her unorthodox prayers, and eventually drifted off to sleep, a little more quickly tonight.

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AN: Thanks for reading so far. Pretty short, but Derek returns to New York in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for the reviews and such, people of the internet. Much appreciated!_

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_Trying to make a move just to stay in the game_  
_I try to stay awake and remember my name_  
_But everybody's changing_  
_And I don't feel the same  
_-**Everybody's Changing, **Keane

* * *

The blinking lights on the sign over Addison's head told her that Derek's flight had been delayed, which only served to make her groan. She had taken a little extra time getting ready that morning, ironing flat her shoulder-length auburn waves and making her favorite breakfast. She had had to take concealer to the sleep-deprived circles under her eyes, but no matter. Mark had come to bed without a word and reeking of champagne, of all things, at two o'clock that morning. She had not really cared, nor had she brought it up as they both stood in front of their respective mirrors in the master bedroom. His silence had spoken more than a thousand words could have; whatever her husband had been doing, he was ashamed of it.

Now lacking anything to do with her time, she made her way through the jostling crowd to a row of seats near a steady stream of traffic. No one seemed to notice her, sitting proper in her black pencil skirt and light indigo sweater. It was interesting, the heterogeneous mix of people, all going different directions for different purposes, yet all ultimately seeking the same things: security, happiness, success, an apology, a goodbye...

A young couple settled into two seats across from her, a stroller parked between them. The mother appeared exhausted, a heavy-looking diaper bag sliding haphazardly down her arms as she dug around in it. The man who could only be the father distracted a baby boy with a hand while balancing a Palm Pilot with his other, the child's large blue eyes mesmerized as he pulled at fingers nearly the length of his forearms. The child, like so many others, reminded Addison of her own Caitlin.

Caitlin Montgomery-Sloan had been an accident. She and Mark had not even been in a proper relationship when they found out that she was pregnant. For a couple of months, they had been screwing around without any real boundaries or rules. It had been fun and even empowering, but a plus sign on a piece of plastic had changed all of that. Questions she had never hoped to answer suddenly demanded immediate attention. Whether to keep it had been the first hurdle to leap. She had just begun her last year of residency, had applied to fellowship programs across the country. Her romantic relationship was still fresh and new and exciting. How would a screaming, needy child improve anything? But, it had been the ultrasound that had solidified her decision. Countless times she had performed an ultrasound for a new mother, seen their emotions and privately thought they must be a bit exaggerated. But it was completely different, knowing that tiny speck on the screen was inside of her, growing and changing and utterly reliant on her, and her alone.

So, abortion had been ruled out. She would keep her baby. But how to tell Mark when they were not even exclusive yet? If he didn't want to be a father, was she up to raising a child alone at this point in her life? But Mark had been overjoyed, somewhat to her surprise. In fact, it had been that very moment when he had first told her he loved her. How far away it all seemed now...

They had gotten married just as she was beginning to show, but afterward nothing was the same. And after Caitlin had come, it only got worse. They had effectively ceased to be a couple in any traditional sense of the term. As much as she loved him, she worried that without Caitlin, their relationship would have fizzled out organically long ago. And yet, she still wore two rings purchased with his credit card on her fourth left finger.

As she watched the baby across from her grow bored, she wondered if she would ever want to have another. After Caitlin had shut her big, blue eyes—the eyes of her father beyond question—for the last time, the life had effectively gone out of Addison as well. Therapy, counseling, medication, time off, time away, over time; nothing had given her proper closure. The place in her heart reserved for her daughter was just necrotic tissue that she could not remove. Time had made things more bearable, but she was beyond believing that it could heal all wounds.

It was lucky that the announcement that Derek's flight had landed finally came over the intercom, because she was only making herself feel worse by the minute.

It took a while for her to spot him through the crowd, and she was not sure who she had been expecting to see, but the sight caused her to do a double take. The Derek Shepherd she had known had always had a bit of a rebellious side, but he was typically well-dressed, immaculately groomed with slick hair and a nice suit. The person she saw at the baggage claim carousel could hardly have been further from that image. He wore dark, loose-fitting jeans under a blue-and-green flannel shirt, and (hopefully deliberately) mismatched red sneakers that looked pretty old. Slung across one shoulder was a leather backpack, more ancient than the high-tops, and his jaw had needed shaving days ago. His hair, though longer than she had ever seen it, suited him well, all waves and curls of black. She was surprised to see he was not wearing eyeliner in the style of Kurt Cobain when he looked up and saw her.

She hastily composed herself; she had been staring, mouth agape at this new person across the room. He smiled when he saw her, the same easy smile she remembered, like he had not a care in the world. After the initial shock wore off, she grinned, forgetting herself as she half-ran, half-walked toward the scruffy neurosurgeon.

"Oh my God, Derek Christopher Shepherd!" She hugged him, a safe barely-touching sort of thing. "I can't believe you're here in the flesh, after so long." She stepped back, "Did you have a decent trip?"

"As decent as six hours in economy with an hour layover in Detroit can be," he said with a chuckle as he followed her toward the doors, only a single black suitcase trailing behind him.

She wrinkled her nose, glancing over at him. "You flew economy? Why not first class?"

He shrugged. "Didn't seem necessary."

She didn't have a response for that, but she was already realizing that he had indeed changed. To be sure, his taste had never been quite so fine as her own (a product of how she had been raised) or Mark's (a product of striving for it), but he had always flown first class, always been willing to pay a little more for better. What else had changed? She wasn't sure she wanted to know anymore.

"Thanks for going out of your way to pick me up. I know you don't exactly live nearby."

She waved it away airily. "It's no problem, really. I needed a change of pace. And I've missed you!" She wasn't certain whether she was exaggerating now. Definitely, she was happy to see him, happier than she had thought she would be, but she couldn't recall ever really having missed him. Maybe she had just been too caught up in what was going on with herself to give him much thought.

As they stood at the curb waiting for the shuttle, Addison gave him another once-over out of the corner of her eye. But he was still wearing plaid. "So," she said slowly, "what made you decide to come back?"

"Mark's practice had an opening," he said ambiguously, watching the sea of people rushing about.

She did not quite understand. "So you … called them?"

He met her eyes, and she found herself wondering if they had always been so blue. For reasons she could not fathom, he was smirking. "No. Richard Webber called them."

"Richard Webber." Color her _confused_.

"Yeah, who did you think I'd been working for?"

She shook her head. "I guess it never occurred to me."

He laughed, she scowled. "You didn't miss me at all, did you? Never even noticed I was gone."

All she could do was pout. It usually worked with men. "Absolutely not. I just didn't realize the two of you were at the _same_ hospital in Seattle," she said, a little more defensively than she had intended. She did not quite catch, in the middle of her desperate attempts to be socially neutral, that he had effectively dodged her question.

"Uh-huh." But there was still a smile tugging at his lips. "How are Sam and Naomi?"

"Oh," she said as the shuttle finally pulled up. He loaded his bag into the storage compartment as she spoke, "well, Naomi just had a baby, actually. His name is Christopher."

"Oh, they named their first born after me? I'm touched," he said conversationally. He found them a seat and Addison found it awkward to sit next to him, like he was a stranger she barely knew. Maybe he was.

She smoothed her skirt as she settled in. "I very much doubt that they named him after you," she stated dryly.

"And I think you're probably just jealous, Addison." His straight face was infuriating, so she decided to stop talking to him.

After a few minutes, they reached her car in the parking garage, neither having said a word. He gave her his address and they set off into the world's worst traffic. After several minutes of silence, she noticed he was staring out of the window, looking completely lost in thoughts that could rival her own. "I'm sorry about—well, I heard—Mark told me the engagement didn't work out," she said tentatively, staring straight ahead over the steering wheel, instead of chancing a glance at her passenger.

"Did he? Yeah. It just wasn't right. She was too young, too..." He seemed to search for the right word before shrugging. "Life goes on." He smiled, but it was a poor, feeble facade. She wondered if it usually fooled people. But she was Addison Forbes Montgomery, queen of all emotions fake.

She suddenly found herself feeling sorry for him, this man who had been a good friend but now felt so mysterious and foreign by comparison. "Listen, Derek, we knew you were coming into town today, and I know it's short notice, but we all thought you might like to come to dinner tonight."

The look on his face was now like the previous moment had never happened. His smile, though slight, seemed genuine enough. "Everyone? Even Archer?"

Addison laughed. "Archie said he was busy, but sends his best and insists the pair of you golf soon."

Derek shook his head. "Your brother never cared for me, did he?"

"He's very protective of his little sister. Aren't you?" Addison knew his sister, Nancy, well—she had been two years below them in medical school—but had only met the others briefly. The youngest— Amanda? Amelia?—she knew to be the black sheep of the Shepherd clan. Though she wasn't entirely sure about Derek now, either.

"Of course. But Archer never seemed to hate Mark, and _he_ actually slept with you," he pointed out.

She considered this for a moment as she made the turn down the street Derek had named. "Archer and Mark are … the same breed," she said carefully, not wanting to insult anyone.

He cocked his head to the side, picking up his backpack from the floorboard. "Are they? So what breed does that make me?" His expression was all seriousness.

Addison found herself at a loss for a change. "I don't know. You've been gone too long."

He stood outside her car now, leaning on the door frame to study her with those unreadable eyes from in front of a tall expanse of condos. "What was I then? Before I left?"

She considered him, unsure why she was playing along with a game she would likely never win. "I would have said you were the same," she stated evenly, careful to hold his penetrating gaze, however uncomfortable it made her.

"Yet Archer still didn't like me. The logic doesn't follow."

She shrugged a cashmere shoulder. "Maybe I was wrong."

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't press the subject further. "To answer your question, I would love to."

She blinked. "Question?"

He smiled, white teeth flashing brilliantly in the cool April sun. "Dinner?"

"Oh! Yes. Is seven-thirty alright? Same place as always?"

"Seven-thirty is perfect. Have a good afternoon, Addison." He extracted his suitcase and disappeared into the front entrance of the condos without another word.

o0o0o

Addison arrived with Mark at twenty minutes after seven that evening, she in a little red dress, he in a slim black three-piece sans the tie. Sam and Naomi were already seated at a table near the bar, but they weren't talking.

"Hey," said Mark as they approached, "Long time, no see."

Naomi nodded. "New baby," she reminded him.

Mark and Addison took their seats. "New baby," he repeated softly. Her husband rarely seemed to miss their daughter. She was uncertain whether he had simply been more able to move on than she had been, or if he did a better job of locking all of it away. She hoped it was the latter, as much as she hated herself for it.

"Where's the guest of honor?" asked Sam, glancing around the room as if Derek were hiding under someone's table.

It was only seconds after his question that Derek did, indeed, appear. Again, Addison was flummoxed. His hair was still the shaggy mess from earlier, but the suit he wore was, from her quick estimates, a rather new Armani in midnight blue. She was certain of it as he made his way closer to the table, a large smile on his freshly-shaven face. She hadn't noticed earlier that beneath the stubble, he still looked the awkward teenager more than anyone else in their party.

Mark was to him first, arms stretched wide, beaming like Addison had not seen him do in months. "Shepherd," he half-cheered, half-greeted, pulling the smaller man into a tight, brotherly hug. Addison had always been a little jealous of their ability to show affection for one another without pretense or shame. "How the hell have you been, man? I like the hair." Maybe a modicum of pretense.

Derek was now embracing Sam in much the same fashion. "I'm well, buddy, really well. Glad to be back."

As everyone settled back down around the table, Addison considered them. She had met Naomi first in medical school. She seemed to have not discovered conditioner and hairspray at that point. Sam had been a friend of Archer's from undergrad, and even with a mouth full of braces, he and Naomi had hit it off immediately. Addison met Mark and Derek in class the first week, only because Derek had asked more questions than anyone else combined—_good_ questions, too—so she had made sure to join their study group.

Mark had been larger-than-life; always surrounded by the prettiest girls, top at all the sports without seeming to try, the funniest, best at holding his liquor. His only problem was that he had not been a very good student. He knew the material, and where he might fail at memorizing definitions, he excelled in lab and practice. She wondered if he would have made it through medical school without all of those friends of his, Derek ever the closest.

As for Derek himself, he had never been quite on par with Mark socially, yet it didn't seem to bother him. Everyone had loved Derek, looked up to and respected him, but at twenty-two, he had been a bit awkward. Though he had been a heavily decorated track and field star, his athletic accomplishments never seemed to impress as much as Mark's had, even if it was just a pick-up basketball game. It was different in the classroom, at the library, though. Derek wasn't just the best, he outstripped them all academically. As a tutor, he had been known to be just as good as some of their professors; he always had some mnemonic or anecdote to help his pupils remember, and they had actually worked. Still, plenty of girls had been into him.

Addison had preferred the star to its moon, though, and hard-to-get was the only game she could beat Mark at. She had dragged him around for years as her pet man-whore, allowed to look but not touch while both he and Derek worked their way through a string of women apiece—Mark's always longer. She had just laughed and shaken her head at them, while secretly wishing violent death on every female the future plastics guru laid a hand on.

It wasn't until their fifth year as residents that he seemed to have matured enough for her taste. He was every bit as talented as she had hoped, but by the fifth date she was pregnant. By then it was too late to reconsider him, because hr options were to marry him or lose all support from her parents.

She didn't realize how long she had been outside of the present, but when she came back, it was to find the neurosurgeon staring at her from across the table. The others were talking and perusing the menu, taking no notice of them. When he caught her looking, he didn't even look away. Instead, he smiled a knowing little smile. It was maddening. There was nothing to know, nothing to smile about. For no logical reason she was aware of, though, she worried that he knew her secret; the one she never admitted even to herself: she no longer, if ever she really had, loved her husband.

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_Thanks again for your support, y'all. Next chapter things begin to get a bit more interesting, I think. Reviews make my day!_


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter is from Derek's point of view. Don't get confused, kay?_

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_I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind  
I'll do it all for you in time  
And of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now  
-**Lego House**, _Ed Sheeran

* * *

Derek's first official day of work at the practice where Mark spent most of his time was going just as smoothly as he had anticipated, which was surprising. He had never worked in a private setting before, so the pace was taking getting used to. There were, among other physicians, four surgeons in the practice: Eppstein, the founder, practiced cardio; Smith-Eppstein, his wife, was a general surgeon; Mark was plastics; and now Derek found himself the sole neurosurgeon for the first time in his life. Still, the practice was technically only open for three days out of the week, though the majority of the staff was expected to put in at least forty hours at the hospital where they had their surgical privileges. His new colleagues seemed to like that, still in his early thirties, Derek had been published more than most surgeons ten years his senior, and his client base was not restricted to locals; people had flown to Seattle from around the country for his skills, and now they would fly to New York.

He was enjoying New York so far, though there was plenty he missed about the west coast. The ferryboats, his coworkers, the coffee... He wondered at the reasons he had chosen to leave. Had it been a weakness, a desire to return home where things were familiar and safe and comforting? Had he been running from a foolish relationship? Maybe these things were parts of his reasoning, albeit probably the smallest part.

He was standing in the kitchenette at the practice, stirring cream into his coffee, when he heard someone enter. He leaned past the dividing wall to see Mark talking to a brunette he recognized as the resident oncologist.

"Look, Lisa, if we don't operate soon, the kid is not going to make it. Period," he was saying, his back to Derek.

"I'm sorry, Mark, but I don't know what you want me to do. I can't make the family change their wishes anymore than you can," said the woman, whose name Derek now recalled was Lisa Osborne. The small brunette walked out of the room purposefully, as if the the click of her heels were the period to her sentence.

Derek glanced at Mark, frowned to see him watching the woman leave in a way he was certain neither she nor his wife would approve of. "Eyes back in your head, Sloan," he said levelly as he turned the corner to stand next to his old friend, tossing the stirring stick into recycling. He wondered who had been Mark's conscience while he had been away, but quickly discarded the thought as he realized that probably no one had.

The plastic surgeon spun around and grinned. "They're uncontrollable. Mind of their own." When Derek ignored him, eyes on his drink, Mark said, "You drink the crap they make here?"

He shrugged. "It's really not that bad."

The plastic surgeon pulled a face. "Jesus, you've changed. What the hell happened to you in Seattle?"

Derek sighed, trying to decided where to begin. "I lived on my own, forged my own name, fell in love—or, at the very least, I thought I did. My boss's daughter, as it happens. I broker her heart, which for some reason really pissed off a few people. So, to answer your question, I grew up. Realized what was important. Have you done that yet?" He was aware that his tone was snappish. Maybe it was because of how he had been looking at that oncologist.

"I lost my daughter, Derek. My perfect, innocent baby girl. You were here, and then you disappeared. And my wife..." He trailed off, shaking his head, hands on hips. "You left, man. You're still my best friend, and I love you, but I don't think you know who I am now. You're not the only one who's done some growing."

Derek felt ashamed of himself then. He wasn't entirely sure how much he believed him, but he knew that he shouldn't have been so quick to judge him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "How are you and Addison?" he asked after a moment of thick silence.

Mark sighed heavily, pulling a chair from under the long table and planting himself in it. "We're surviving. But, I mean, to be honest, I don't know what to do anymore. I know she doesn't sleep, she cries at night. It's like she's not even there when I talk to her. And I don't know if it's me or if it's Caitlin still, or something else entirely... I just don't know what to do."

"Have you tried just … asking her what's the matter?"

He shrugged, eyes wide an staring off. "I'm pretty sure I've tried everything."

Derek found himself frowning again, but he just finished his coffee in silence and tossed the paper cup. "I've got an appointment. But I'm glad that we'll be working together again. It'll be nice."

"I think so too." Mark stood up, stretching. "Hey—you should come over tonight. Addie's making dinner, she likes having company, and we still have a lot of catching up to do."

"I would love to, but I promised to take my sister to dinner tonight."

"Which sister?"

"Nancy."

Derek did not like the grin that covered his friend's face now. "Well, bring her along."

o0o0o

The exterior of the brownstone was exactly as Derek remembered it from two years ago: large (by Manhattan standards), cold, old, and too expensive for his taste. It reeked of money—both old and new; it reeked of Mark and Addison. He had half lived there during Addison's pregnancy—a second pair of hands while Mark was in surgery for concocting strange cravings, back rubs, and help down the stairs when the mother-to-be could no longer see her feet. Not much in his living arrangements changed after Caitlin had joined them, either. As the girl's godfather, it meant that he had first obligations to babysitting duties. Then when she was gone, he was still there as often as possible as a shoulder for both his friends. He wondered how they managed to live here still, when the only memories _he _had there reminded him of a little girl taken too soon, surely it must be killing them.

It was Nancy, standing beside him on the stoop waiting for the door to open, who voiced his thoughts in a whisper, "How can they live here still? Don't you think it just reminds them of their daughter? I couldn't do it. If I lost one of mine, I would probably go crazy and move to Australia."

"I don't know, Nance," he replied quietly as the door swung open to Mark's bearded face.

"Nancypants!" he greeted, pulling the slender woman into a hug.

"Hey, loser, how've you been?"

"I've been just fine." He was smiling as he ushered them inside. "How's the new job treating you?"

"Very well. But I wouldn't want to bore you with the details of a specialty you don't care about."

"You got me there," he chuckled. "Addie's in the kitchen. You two want a drink?"

They agreed and trailed after him to the kitchen, where Addison was wearing an apron over a short black dress.

"Almost finished," she promised as Mark handed them glasses of white wine. "How was our first day, Derek?"

He settled onto a bar stool, straightening the legs of his jeans. The only thing he could think of though was how irritated he had been o see the way Mark had looked at his colleague. But now was not the time to bring anything like that up. "It was good. Different—but good. Spent the first half of the day in the practice, and the next half in the OR. Can't really beat that, I suppose." He couldn't help smiling, though his day had in fact been very boring. He had missed Addison; the way she manage to look her best even when playing the domestic housewife; how that WASPy politeness could never quite be shelved, no matter how hard she tried. He wondered if she could see all of the traits in herself that he could.

Derek helped them serve, despite their objections. It felt like old times, though a certain sadness seemed to cling to the air now. It made him want to leave the brownstone and never look back. But they would be in the middle of conversation about a case Nancy had, and he could see it in Addison's eyes: the pain, grief, loneliness. He knew her, even now, better than she probably realized, could read most of what she was feeling. He wondered if anyone could say the same about him.

As the table was cleared to make room for coffee and pie, Addison abruptly stood. "I'm going to get some fresh air," she said, little too faintly.

Mark and Nancy, caught up in conversation, both nodded vaguely in the redhead's direction, though Derek doubted they had really heard her. "I'll come with you," he said instinctively.

The air on the balcony was cool and breezy, the faint smell of summer mingled in with all that the Upper East Side had to offer. He stood beside her, their arms resting on the railing. "Nice night," he said.

"Unseasonably warm," she responded.

There was silence between them—comfortable silence that seemed ancient and friendly. However she had felt about him at the airport, he could feel it melting away, replaced by the cool air and smell of the garden below. He knew that she had thought him changed, perhaps even strange, when she had picked him up. But this felt more like the friendship he remembered.

After a while, he knew he had to ask what had been on his mind since arriving, and especially since Mark expressed his concern that morning. "How are you, Addison? Really?"

She glanced sideways at him but quickly looked away. "I'm good, Derek. I love my work, Mark has recently cut back on his surgeries after making partner, so... I'm great. _Really_," she added with a little smirk.

He, of course, knew she was lying, but he very much wanted her to trust him, to feel safe opening up to someone as she so clearly was not doing with her husband. But she _didn't_ trust him, and when he thought about it, that made sense. They had been close, but Mark had always been there between them, even before she started seeing him. He hadn't been blind to how she had felt. He resolved that the only way to have her open up was to take the first step. "I've been in love exactly three times," he started slowly, not quite meeting her eye just yet as he tried to find the appropriate words. "Once in college, once in medical school, once in Seattle. The college girl was young love. We … grew up, became different people, went our separate ways. I think she is a professor of sociology now. The medical school girl, she rebuffed me. I don't think she ever really knew how I felt. And the girl in Seattle was … well, a girl. She was a freshman in medical school when I started seeing her. Mature for her age group, but she had surgeons for parents, so I'd imagine she would have to be. But still, that was a mistake. She was supposed to be a girl in a bar that I would never see again, but she turned out to be Ellis Grey's daughter."

"_The_ Ellis Grey—?" Addison's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

He nodded. "The very same. I was an idiot; let the idolization of a twenty-four-year-old woman make me think we could build a future together, when she would be going to school at Dartmouth and then taking an internship who knows where... Could you imagine me in New Hampshire? Or trying to make a long-distance relationship work while one person is in med school and the other is establishing his career as a surgeon?" He sighed. "Then I realized, she didn't love me. She loved '_Dr. Derek Shepherd,_' this cool brain surgeon from the east coast. And I was just trying to fill someone else's shoes. So now I'm here. And I've probably never felt more alone … in my life." It was the first time he had said most of those things aloud, and was surprised to feel quite relieved, though his intention had initially just been to let Addison talk.

She was silent for a moment, staring out toward the steady traffic. "I'm sorry, Derek. Honestly, I think I believe I know how you must feel. The loneliness, even when you're right next to someone, is … it's toxic." She smiled then, catching his eye before she spoke. "You should let me set you up."

He could only chuckle at the glint of mischief in her seafoam eyes, a color that reminded him simultaneously of springtime in Central Park and winter off the Sound. "I'm not so sure that I'm ready for that." Maybe that was a lie. Was it a lie?

"Oh, nothing serious. Just someone to take your mind off things, have some fun with. In _fact_, I have the perfect person in mind. She likes Russel Crowe _and_ Soundgarden.

He laughed in earnest. "Alright, you lost me."

"You always have this devil-may-care grunge look about you these days. And I don't know what your intention is for your hair, but you seem to be channeling a certain Australian."

He shook his head at her, all seriousness despite the ridiculousness of the subject matter. "Alright. That might be nice," he conceded. And, maybe it would make her happy to play match-maker, even if nothing would come of it.

It was her smile then, wide and bright and completely real, that made him realize what had brought him back to New York. He wasn't running, wasn't afraid of failing, wasn't seeking the comfort of home. He couldn't place his finger on what exactly had put the idea in his mind to come back, rather than accept offers from any of the other prestigious hospitals that had wanted him. But the tall, funny, absolutely genius woman next to him was drowning, and her husband stood by the shore with his back turned. She was surrounded by supportive people with blind eyes. And maybe it took leaving and coming back again restored, with a new wisdom and clarity, to fully realize what needed to be done—what _he_ had to do. He had to save her marriage. He had to save _her_.

_Next chapter: Lots of Addek! Woot!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Um, so it's been a week since I updated, even though this chapter was finished like 5 days ago. I have no excuse. You have my permission to be frustrated._

* * *

_This one's for the torn down_  
_The experts at the fall_  
_Come on friends, get up now_  
_You're not alone at all  
_-**Comes and Goes**, Greg Laswell

* * *

April gave way to May with a week's worth of thunderstorms, and May passed by in a blur of surgery and a rainbow of blooms on the trees in the park. By the end of June, life seemed to be back on track for Addison. She was adjusting to coexisting with an extra helping of Shepherd and her relationship with Mark was even a bit changed.

Their days and most nights were spend with scalpel in hand, but Derek was always coming up with something to do with their time off. They would have dinner or drinks; see a movie or go bowling—which was interesting; Addison had never been bowling. Sometimes they would just wander around The Village or Central Park. It was definitely more than Addison was used to: the predictable dinner date, the eleven o'clock lovemaking. She had not entirely realized how mundane her life had been until Derek and his new brand of both energy and wisdom had arrived to show her differently.

Some days, it was just the three of them, while others included Sam and Naomi or Nancy, Archer, or Addison's friend Hannah. Of the latter, Addison was particularly proud. She and Derek seemed to get along very well.. She was a pediatrician at the women's hospital were Addison worked, and her people kills were phenomenal. She thought she could sense something, though. Something Derek was holding back, which she assumed was residual feelings for this mysterious Seattle girlfriend. He seemed happy enough—definitely enthusiastic—but something else was going on that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Her own relationship was not doing particularly well, either. She and Mark spent more time together than they had in years, but Derek was always there, too, which left Addison unsure whether it counted. And, perhaps paradoxically, their love life was on the decline. If they were out past eleven, they usually would just go to bed upon arriving home. And on early nights, one of them often ended up in the spare room or on the couch. It didn't help that in recent weeks, her husband had begun taking on more surgeries. Coupled with the champagne night, she was more than a little suspicious. She had no doubt that he told the truth when he said he was in the OR; he was just as addicted as she was … but his reasoning was questionable. Did he want to build a client base for his own practice? Did he feel so snubbed by the practice that he currently worked for to want to leave? Was he jealous of Derek, who had accomplished more so quickly? Or was he just trying to escape her?

These thoughts filled her mind as she sat in her living room listening to a favorite musician and babysitting six-month-old Christopher Bennett, whose parents were at an upscale restaurant attempting to salvage their own marriage. Mark was reconstructing someone's breasts across town. The ringing the doorbell pulled her from her revery.

She put the baby into his playpen in the middle of the room, where the coffee table normally was, and crossed the length of the brownstone to the front door. She was a little surprised to see Derek on the other side of the peephole.

"Hey," she said as she pulled the door open, smiling uncertainly.

"Hey. Sorry to just drop in. Is Mark around? He was supposed to loan me—" he broke off, smirking at Addison, thumbs hooked on the pockets of his jeans. "Is that Joni Mitchell?"

Addison could feel herself cheeks grow hot, though there was nothing really to be uncomfortable about. "Yes—I mean, no—no, Mark isn't here."

"So I deduced," he said, swirling a finger in the air to indicate the music. He entered without invitation, but she found that she didn't mind, as she might have with anyone else.

"Can I get you a drink?" He nodded, glancing around, and Addison took the opportunity to consider him. He again wore one of those stupid lumberjack outfits, all flannel and denim, but with sneakers instead of boots. She still had not figured him out, she realized.

She fetched two glasses and a chilled bottle of sweet red wine and returned to the living room, baby Christopher already asleep in his playpen. "He's in surgery," she said as she sat down by him on the couch. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to explain Mark's whereabouts to him, but she felt a little embarrassed for some reason. "Can you uncork this?"

He took the corkscrew and deep purple bottle from her, but chuckled when he saw the label. "Lambrusco, Addison? _And_ Joni Mitchell? You never fail to surprise me."

"Say what you will, Derek, but it's a delicious wine," she said a little defensively.

The cork came out with a _pop_. "I didn't say it wasn't. I just didn't expect you to think so. Very seventies evening you're having here."

she shrugged, taking the opened bottle from him and filling their glasses. "There's probably a lot about me you wouldn't expect," she remarked softly. She wasn't certain what made her say it, but when she glanced up to hand the glass to him, he was smiling and she was certain that there was something in his pale blue eyes, but he looked away too quickly for her to be certain what it had been.

They talked as the Canadian woman poured her heart out in the background, about work and about music and movies, never straying far from the superficial, as if it were some unwritten rule of the night.

The cries of the boy in front of them grabbed her attention in the middle of a discussion about a recent book they had both read. She set down her glass, only just becoming aware of how much time had passed, and brought the child a bottle, sitting back down with him next to the neurosurgeon.

She sang along under her breath as Christopher grappled with the bottle, "_Sometimes I'm happy, sometimes I'm blue. My disposition depends on you. I never mind the rain in the skies, as long as I have the sun in your eyes._"

"You're really good with him," Derek observed, elbow on the of the couch and head resting on a fist. His blue eyes shown, and a small smile played on his lips.

She wasn't sure what to say, didn't quite know how to interpret the way he was looking at her, or what he was implying with the words he spoke. So she just smiled in response.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?" She almost laughed; he had scarcely _ever_ done anything to her that might warrant apology.

"For leaving. Going to Seattle when I did."

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. "You left for work. I can hardly criticize you for that." She was confused; they had been close, but she didn't think they had been _that _close... "You didn't owe me anything," she stated pointedly, pausing to help Christopher reposition his bottle.

"I know. But I left just as you needed supportive people around you, but I let a job come first." He shook his head. "I still can't believe what an idiot I was."

She sighed, not exactly meeting his eye. "Derek, you're one of the best friends I've ever had, but... I managed. I had Mark."

"Did you?" His expression was stony, but quickly turned to anguish as he spoke, voice just a hoarse whisper.

Before she could respond, even really process his words, he had stood up and set down his wine glass. "I should go." he was to the door before she was off the couch. "Tell Mark that I'll get up with him later. It was nice seeing you, Addison."

Then he was gone in a flash of red flannel, and Addison was left staring at the closed door, wondering what the hell had just happened.

It was Wednesday before she saw him again; the plans had been made the previous week. Looking at him across the table, though, Addison was certain that he would not have made them otherwise. He was silent and brooding, a dark cloud hanging over his eyes like a thunderstorm. She wondered if it was his words to her the previous weekend. It was true that she though his behavior had been odd, but the truth tonight was that he was annoying her.

"So I hear from Addison that you cook, Derek?" Hannah was asking.

He nodded, barely meeting his date's eyes, just swilling the scotch in his glass.

"He's kind of a health nut," Mark supplied through a mouthful of steak. Addison had to look away to keep from slapping table manners into him.

The talk continued smoothly from there, but the neurosurgeon gave minimal participation. By the end of the night, Mark and Hannah had gotten to know one another better than Derek and Hannah, which ritated Addison for all the wrong reasons.

"What's up with you?" she finally asked as they were all standing to leave.

He looked surprised, glancing up at her as he counted out his share of the tip. "Do you think the tip's too large? He _did_ forget to bring Mark's steak knife at first..."

Addison scowled at his mock consideration, paying no mind to her husband chatting up her friend by the door. "You know that's not what I was talking about. You've been so _moody_. And you were never so introverted."

He smiled as he tucked his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. "I promise, I've always been this introverted." His smile widened to a grin. "Why do you think I'm single?"

She arched an eyebrow, sleeveless arms crossed over giraffe-print chest. "You're never single, Derek. The entire time I've known you, you've had at least one girl on your arm."

The smile faded into sobriety. "Not _the_ girl, though."

She wasn't sure why that made her so uncomfortable, but she had to break eye contact, looking instead toward her husband.

He followed her gaze, she saw from the corner of her eye, and now he was frowning. "Are you happy, Addison?" His voice was soft, but not the same way Mark's was when he was afraid of breaking her. Derek's words were gentle, reminding her of something soothing from childhood that she couldn't quite place.

Still, she could only gape at the question he was asking. "Why would you ask me that?"

To her endless frustration, he was smiling again, patiently and calmly. That classic Shepherd smile she was beginning to hate. "You don't have to answer me," he said levelly, "but you _do_ have to answer to yourself. Just … consider it." He raised his brows in a way that spoke of finality and rejoined his date, flashing her a smile as he did.

As Addison climbed into the cab with Mark without a word, she thought about what her friend had said. She considered her big secret, the one she knew he knew even if they didn't talk about it, and she knew then that something had to change. She and her husband had been through so much, it felt unfair to not give him a decent shot, whether she loved him or not. So there, with his head against the window and hers full of thoughts, she resolved to give her marriage a real chance. And if for some reason, this last chance didn't work, she would leave him. Not because she didn't care, not because she even really wanted to, but because she was finally realizing that they both deserved much, much better than they were getting.

* * *

_So... maybe you can see the dilemma that is about emerge. Derek decided last chapter that he wants to "save" Addison and Mark's marriage, and now Addison has resolved to … do the same? Sort of? We'll see. Sorry this is so super short. But next chapter some things begin to fall into place so that the Addek ball can officially begin to roll!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Added lyrics to the beginning of all the chapters just because the song for this chapter was too perfect not to include. Go listen while you read, it's like beer and pizza. Or peas and carrots... whatever._

Also, I think I've finally found a summary I like and can stick to. Sorry if there was confusion...

* * *

_Is he worth all this?  
__Is it a simple yes?  
__'Cause if you have to think  
__It's fucked  
__-_**This Isn't Everything You Are, **Snow Patrol

* * *

The next week passed uneventfully for Addison. She had begun trying at her relationship again, but it wasn't exactly exciting business so far. When he came home, she made him tea—which he refused, until she told him that she had spiked it with scotch and honey. She attempted to cook his favorite dinner, but that was more his area than hers, and she could tell that he didn't like it. She had even done that _thing_ he liked in bed that she hadn't done in quite some time. But that had gotten her nowhere except unsatisfied and lonely. Again. It had only been seven days, but already she had considered giving up entirely.

Then her husband actually managed to surprise her. She was washing dishes from lunch when she felt fingertips graze her abdomen, a bearded jaw nuzzle her neck. She smiled in spite of herself; little moments of intimacy like these just didn't happen very often for them.

"You've been very busy lately," he murmured, lips almost touching her ear, fingers tracing circles through her blouse.

"I have. The TTTS case has been exhausting me," she agreed, still washing a plate that was probably already clean, just as a distraction.

"Here, too. I've noticed, you know. You've been stepping up your game." He pulled back, hands resting at her waist. "Let me make it up to you."

She turned to face him, encircled in his arms as she dried her hands on a towel. "What did you have in mind?"

"Something outside these walls. Maybe dinner, a walk through the park?"

She considered him, trying to put her finger on what felt different about this proposal compared to the countless other dates he had asked her on. There was a certain sincerity in his eyes, completely with firmly set jaw and shoulders.

"That sounds nice," she agreed, allowing herself a smile, the crease between her brow relaxing for the first time in days.

Mark returned the expression. "Good. Because I already made reservations. It would be really awkward if you said no..."

She chuckled and led him by the hand toward the stairs, smile never leaving her face.

By nine o'clock, the stars were just becoming visible in the park. It was not quite the view they might have had in The Hamptons, but it seemed to be enough for them both, her hand held securely in his. Addison almost felt guilty for doubting their relationship lately. If they still had nights like these left in them, maybe everything would turn out for the best. Regardless of how she felt about him now, perhaps she could learn to love him again. Tonight, with his asking her to dinner and going out of his way to make her feel like she was still a relevant part of his life … it gave her hope.

They had been walking in silence, one which Addison felt was rather comfortable, hands swinging slightly between them. But when she glanced up at to look at him, she was surprised to see a pained look distorting his usually-handsome face. He was staring intently and, following his line of sight, she saw a little girl standing on a park bench next to her parents, who were attempting to strap a wriggling younger sibling into a blue stroller. The girl, no older than three, held a sippy cup in one hand and waved sheepishly at Mark and Addison as they passed. He gave the girl a small, somewhat sad smile, but otherwise no indication that he had even seen her.

Addison often wondered how he coped so well with the loss of Caitlin, but she was beginning to realize that even after all this time, he still felt the same pain that she did. It would seem that he just kept it bottled up better, was more able to push through it.

After a while, the silence between them grew deafening, the ghost of a baby girl dividing them like an ocean. She searched for a way to break the tension before resigning herself to, "It's a nice night, isn't it? We should do this more often." She attempted to smile, but could feel it falter under his gaze.

He continued to be silent for quite some time, and Addison was beginning to feel awkward by the time he finally spoke, "Do you think things would have been different? If Caity had lived? If she'd been healthy?"

She considered this for him like it wasn't something she thought about every day, then took a deep breath. "It's a nice thought." This wasn't the whole truth, of course. As far as their relationship was concerned, she had long ago decided that little would have been different had their short-lived family remained intact.

Mark nodded, bowed his head, and heaved a heavy sigh. His hand gently disentangled from hers and he shoved both deep into the pockets of his slacks. They rounded two corners on their path before he said anything. "Have you had a good night, Addie?"

Again she tried to smile, and again she failed, the result just an awkward twisting of her features. "I've had a lovely evening, Mark," she responded uncertainly. She didn't have a very good feeling about the direction their conversation was taking.

He only nodded again, looking away from her to his right where the tip of the sun was still barely visible. "I asked you out tonight for a reason." His voice was just above a whisper, slightly muffled because he wasn't facing her as he spoke.

She felt a sudden rush of dread and stopped, half-turning to face him in his tracks, but he still wouldn't look at her. "Mark. Don't." Her words were forceful, but she was pleading with her eyes. Things felt _good_ for once, and she knew that he was about to spoil it.

His face was hard as he finally dragged his eyes from the horizon to meet hers. The chilly frigidity emanating from him made her recoil, taking an involuntary step backward. "The day before Derek came back, that first night I came home late, I was with another woman." Before she could open her mouth or even formulate any kind of response, he pressed on, "Nothing really happened, but I couldn't tell you the truth then. I didn't … I didn't know if we could survive it.

Her first thought was surprise—surprise at how unfazed she was by the news. She could only nod, looking out past his shoulder before returning her attention to his face. He looked like a boy caught with a broken vase on the floor and football in hand, not at all like the thirty-something husband, father, successful career man that he was supposed to be. "Why are you telling me this now, then?"

He shrugged, brow furrowed, his whole face frowning. "I'm an ass."

She laughed in spite of the gravity of the situation. "Yes, you are." She made the initiative to start walking back toward their home. "Was it a date, then?" She glances over at him as they retrace their footsteps, but he only looks uncomfortable. "So that's a yes. Why didn't you sleep with her?"

"I'm an ass," he repeated, "but I wouldn't do _that_ to you. You've been through enough."

"I appreciate your consideration," she muttered with a roll of her eyes. "Were there others?"

"Yes."

It stung a lot less than she thought it would, in all the times she had pictured this scenario at the peak of an anxiety attack. At least she didn't have those anymore. "Did you sleep with any of them?"

"No. Addie—since we found out you were pregnant, it's only been you. There have been some … near misses. But still, the answer's no."

"Near misses," she repeated faintly, crossing her arms over her chest. What a complete fool she had been, thinking she could domesticate Mark Sloan. She knew she should feel angry, but she could only feel pity for him. He seemed to not even understand how serious the situation was. "You realize we're probably _not_ got to survive his, right?"

He sighed, grimaced. "Yeah. I do."

o0o0o

When they returned home in icy silence, Mark promptly left again. It didn't even feel very unordinary. She stood in the middle of the living room, glancing around at three years' worth of shared history; at paintings and the handful of existing family photos; at house plants they'd both cared for; furniture they had fought over... And she knew that she couldn't stay there anymore. Not tonight, not alone, not while she wondered who her husband was out _not_ having sex with. She had to be the one to leave.

But where to go? She fell into the couch, considering her options. Naomi and Sam had Christopher, which counted them out immediately as far as she was concerned. Sav and Weiss were vacationing in Spain. And Archer … well, Archer had a big mouth, and she did not want anything getting out just yet. There was Derek; Derek, who had no children or sex life that she was aware of, and whose presence she might be able to tolerate longer than five minutes.

She leaned over and picked up the handset from the end table, dialing his number from memory. "Derek," she said when he picked up, composing herself, "don't ask me why right now, but I need to stay at your place."

"Okay," he said slowly, "is everything alright?"

"Yes … well, no. Not really. I'll explain when I get there." She was standing now, gathering small personal effects together.

"Get here?"

"Yeah. I'm about to leave now."

"You're lucky I'm home," he grumbled, though she could hear the smile in his voice.

When she arrived at Derek's condo, he was in his pajamas—more flannel. It was getting a bit out of control at this point. "Hey," he said softly, frowning slightly as he pulled the door open.

She smiled wanly, dropped her bags on the floor and pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, hands rubbing circles into her back. She rested her head on his chest and just melted into her friend's embrace. She felt him press a kiss into her hair after a moment, but neither of them said a word for what seemed an eternity. Addison had to admit that she liked the feel of where she was; she recognized that she was lucky to have such a good friendship with such a good person.

"Let me get you a drink," he offered as she finally straightened up, swiping at the tears that had begun to well up in her eyes—though whether they were from the loss of her husband or the comfort of his best friend, she wasn't sure.

"Just water," she responded, following him inside. She made herself comfortable on his couch, examining the collection of medical journals stacked on his coffee table as he carried her luggage into another room, then made for the kitchen.

He came back shortly carrying two glasses of ice water. "So," he said, handing hers to her before settling kitty-corner into the opposite side of the couch, "do you want to talk? You don't have to; I made up the spare room for you..."

She took a sip of the water, set it back down. "Mark was cheating on me." She gave him a pointed look, trying her best to seem in control. "He claims he never slept with any of them … like that even matters."

"Jesus, Addie, I'm sorry. Do you need me to—?"

She shook her head before she even knew what he was going to ask. "I'm fine, Derek. Really." There was silence between them for a moment. "Did you know?" she found herself asking.

He frowned, but was able to hold eye contact. "I had my suspicions," he answered steadily.

Addison groaned, leaning back into the cushions and covering her eyes with her hands. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because they were just suspicions, and you're both my friends. It wasn't my place and I don't want to take sides."

"He'll consider _this_—letting me stay here—choosing sides, you know," she pointed out.

Derek shrugged a shoulder. "He cheated on you," he stated simply.

She smiled, somewhat surprised that she still had that ability after the night she had had. "Thank-you, Derek," she whispered earnestly.

He chuckled, getting to his feet again. "Don't be so quick to appreciate me; you've not tried to sleep on that mattress in the guest room yet."

She followed him to his second bedroom, which contained boxes stacked along one wall, a full-size bed, a nightstand, and an old dresser.

"You can put your stuff in that dresser, if you like. It's the same one I've had since college." He grinned, as if recalling something she wasn't privy to. "Help yourself to the kitchen, you know where the bathroom is—towels are in the closet by the sink, and I'm right next door if you need anything." He lingered in the doorway for a moment, leaning against the frame as she started unpacking.

"I'm glad you called me, Addison."

She looked up from her crouching position over a suitcase. "I'm glad I called you, too."

* * *

_If you're shaking your fist angrily at me, wondering why my chapters are so short, it's because you're not reviewing. :P Seriously though, next chapter is ridiculously long and is my favorite chapter so far (Addeky room mates, ahhhh!), soooo it'll probably be out pretty quickly. Quicker if you tell me what you hated about this chapter._


	6. Chapter 6

_So, your reviews were excellent and I appreciate them. I ended up moving a scene out of this chapter and into a later chapter. And then I felt bad because it was just as long as chapter 5 after I did that. So I added in something I hadn't planned to do at all, just for funsies! :)_

_For the record: I don't typically listen to Drake. But I love this song and it works really well for this. Total guilty pleasure, haha._

* * *

_Dealing with a heart that I didn't break  
I'll be there for you,  
I will care for you  
I keep thinking, you just don't know_  
-**Take Care**, Drake

* * *

Addison awoke early on Sunday morning; Derek had promised to spend the day with her, to take her mind off things, but the first hour of the day she planned to spend with herself.

His bathtub was huge, quite unlike the drab piece of functionality she had had at the brownstone. But all of his shampoos and soaps were for men, and all of hers were still in her bathroom several blocks away... So she did the only logical thing she could: picked each one of his collection up and sniffed them, finally settling on one that triggered a smile as soon as she opened the lid. She assumed it was one Mark also used.

She propped her feet up by the faucet and began scrubbing all her cares away with a cloth. After that was done, she inhaled deeply the spicy aroma mingling with the steam, clasping fingers behind her head meditatively. She reflected that it was too bad she was on-call later that evening, because she really could spend all day soaking.

That was, until the door to the bathroom swung open and Derek Shepherd froze in place, clad only in boxers and blue eyes wide.

"Addison!" he choked at the same instant she shrieked "Derek!"

He turned his back to her and she splashed around trying to cover herself with her hands, though the damage was already done. "Don't you know how to use a lock?" His voice was high and nervous, giving him the air of a pubescent boy, much unlike his usual cool and collected self.

"I'm sorry," she snapped, wrapping a towel around herself as the water drained from the tub, "I've been cohabiting for three years. Locks become kinda pointless after a while."

She saw him chance a glance at her from under his lashes, then turn around when he saw that she was robed in the towel, wringing out her hair with another. "And did you use my lotion?"

She straightened, capable only of blinking at him. "So that's why it wasn't lathering..."

"Addison," he stretched her name out in a whine, "They don't make that line anymore, and it's the only one I ever use!"

"Oh, my God. _This_ is why you're single." She laughed, tossing him the damp towel from her head as she passed him in the doorway. "And cover yourself in the presence of a lady."

o0o0o

Addison shoved a handful of popcorn unceremoniously into her mouth, leering at a pair of Bengal tigers across from her. "Can you remind me again why we're here?"

Derek glanced over at her, arms folded across his chest, which bore the CBGB logo in faded lettering. "Because. We both have the morning off. How often does that happen?"

She snorted. "Often, apparently. Don't you ever work?"

"I work often enough," he defended, moving aside for a group of children to view the exhibit. "And there are more important things than surgery, Addie."

She scoffed, following him down the pathway. "I never thought I'd hear _you_ say that."

He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong—I love to cut as much as the next guy. But I think I forgot who I am somewhere along the way." He tilted his head at her, smiling. "I remember now." Still looking at her, he took a long slurp from his giant souvenir cup. "Let's go see the chimps."

She continued along beside him, content for the moment with people watching. It was by the camel rides where everything fell apart. There was something Derek—and indeed, most people—did not know about Addison: she had a trigger, one did she not just discuss with anyone. And it would make sense that she should find her trigger here, at a zoo, because her trigger involved babies, specifically, babies that resembled her daughter.

She kept walking, but had to fight against the anxiety taking hold of her at the sight of a girl with big blue eyes and wispy blonde hair, clinging to her father's hair from atop his shoulders. It felt like she might suffocate, and, though she knew what was happening, her thoughts rapidly turned dark and panicky. Caitlin was dead, _dead_, like she had never even existed. And if she couldn't pull herself out of it, she would be, too. And no one would care. Not Mark, not Archer, not her parents, not Naomi, not...

"_Her _heart_? What do you—there's nothing wrong with her."_

"_There's nothing wrong now. In the future, the problem will only become worse. She needs a valve replacement, and frankly, the sooner the better. It's lucky we caught it when we did."_

"_You're talking about surgery."_

"_I'm talking about surgery. I know you're both surgeons, and you have your preferences, but I'd recommend New York-Presbyterian. They have an excellent pediatric surgery program there—"_

"_No. I'm not sending her there. I don't _know_ them, how can I trust them with my baby girl?"_

"_Addison, we went through medical school there. There's Dr. Ha—"_

"_It isn't up for discussion, Mark. If our daughter needs surgery, I'm going to do it myself. It's my specialty, I've done this procedure—several times."_

"_Addie, sweetheart, I understand how you feel, but you _can't_. There are _rules, _oaths you swore to uphold. You're the best, but Dr. Harper trained you. He can do it, alright? She'll be in good hands, you know that."_

"_You think I'm being irrational."_

_"You're putting words in my mouth. I'm just saying, if she needs surgery, that's the place to do it. They're one of the best in the country."_

"_I just—I can't—She's so _small_ and so _perfect_ and there was nothing wrong with her... She's just..." _

"_Addie? Hey, Adds, don't. No tears, okay? Come here... It'll be alright. Everything'll be alright."_

"Add?" came Derek's voice, reeling her back to the present. He had one hand on her arm, the other at her waist, his brow wrinkled and eyes searching hers frantically.

She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and was pleased to see his face relax marginally. Eager to draw his attention away from her, she covered the hand on her arm with her own, smiling reassuringly.

"Are you alright?" he asked cautiously, not allowing her to break eye contact.

Addison could only nod, continue to regulate her breathing. She had been leaning on the railing, but his steadying grasp was taking a more proactive approach than the cold metal. She glanced around for the man with the little girl, but they were gone.

Derek followed her line of sight, frowning—if possible—even more deeply as he pieced the situation together. "I'm sorry, Addie. I should have known better than to bring you somewhere like this." He paused, managed to paint on a sort of smiley grimace. "Have lunch with me?"

She smiled at the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine concern still tracing the lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. How could she say no to that?

During lunch, Addison could do little more than pick at her food. She caught Derek staring now and then, but if he had anything on his mind, he wasn't sharing. She figured that she at least owed him some information after freaking him out at the zoo, and there had been a lot weighing on her mind recently anyway.

"We only got married because of the pregnancy. My parents … threatened to cut me off. '_Forbes-Montgomeries are not slutty single mothers_,' Bizzy told me."

"Bizzy?"

"My mother."

"Hm. I don't think you've ever mentioned her before. I guess I alwys just assumed that you and Archer just sprang forth from some sprawling New England garden."

She chuckled in spite of herself. "Yeah. Bizzy probably would have preferred that." She was quiet for a moment and he patiently waited for her to continue, "He's great. Honestly. If he could ever … grow up, I'm sure he would be really good for someone."

He nodded, peering at her curiously. "Someone … else?"

She pushed around a tomato in her salad, exerting all concentration onto the little red fruit instead of the man currently boring a hole into her from the other side of the table, "I don't think I ever really loved him, Derek." It almost caught her by surprise, the sob she had to choke back, causing her voice to crack on his name.

After she had composed herself again, he gave her a sympathetic look before speaking softly, "Then why did you wait for him so long during med school?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "You knew about that?"

He grinned. "Everyone knew about that."

She glared at him, then sighed heavily. "I don't know, I suppose I just ..." She shook her head. "Everyone wanted him, and what he wanted, he got."

"So you thought he was a valuable asset."

"Derek! No. I really liked him, it was just … maybe some twisted form of jealousy, or maybe he seemed so completely reckless that being able to control him would make me feel more in control of my own life. Or at least, that's what my shrink says."

"You're still seeing a shrink?"

She felt her cheeks grow hot; she hadn't really meant to share that piece of information. "I see a counselor, once a month," she admitted, "I'm not crazy or anything, I just..."

"Addison," he interrupted, leaning forward and taking her hand in his, "I know. You've been through a lot. If anything, I'm impressed by how together you are." After a moment he released her and sat back. "So if that's why you were with him, then what about what you wanted? What you _really_ wanted?"

She couldn't quite meet his eye, returning instead to the tomato. "That has never really been my strong suit."

"We can work on it, then."

"We?"

"Sure. I'll be your wingman … if you'll have me?" His eyes had that mischievous glint in them, a smirk tugging up one corner of his lips. "So what do you want? Name one thing."

She smiled, contemplating his offer, but there was only one thing she could think of. "I want it all. A big, happy, healthy family; a successful career without making any concessions."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's kind of a tall order, isn't it? How about we start smaller?"

"Fine." She glanced around, then looked back toward him with a grin. "I want that guy over there."

"Alright. Go get him." He folded his arms over his chest, still smirking.

"What?" The grin slid from her face. "I can't just—"

"Sure you can." His voice lowered to a whisper, "Confidence, Addie. Just go compliment him. Ask for his number."

"Derek—"

"_Addison_," he mimicked her good-naturedly. "It was your idea. You can do it."

She scoffed. "I've been separated not even two days."

"Yes, but you _are_ still a human being with a pulse. It's not like you're proposing marriage; it's harmless flirting … unless you don't want it to be, of course."

"You are so..." she began, but just clenched her fist and shook it at him, at which he laughed.

In the end, she won the man's number and returned to Derek, beaming. He leaned back in his chair, grinning at her like he had never seen her before. For a minute she considered asking what was the matter with him, but instead just sat down again and gave him her own mysterious look, trying to figure him out. She didn't know what he was thinking; it seemed like he was always a step ahead of her, and everyone else. She did not, as of yet, know what it was, but she knew that he was closely guarding something.

She knew because, one; men are never nice to everyone the way Derek was. However, men were always nice to people that they were keeping secrets from. And two; she liked to think that she knew him pretty well—but he just didn't seem like himself. He was still the clever, funny, slightly awkward, charming-as-the-boy-next-door kind of person that he had always been, but she found it strange that he never talked about himself or what was on _his_ mind. He seemed overly preoccupied and, despite everything else going on in her life, she was dying to know why.

o0o0o

The next morning, Derek awoke earlier than normal. He had a six a.m. surgery, and three more after that, so arriving early to the hospital was imperative. In fact, it was so early tat he was certain that he was the first of the morning shift to arrive, and he didn't really know anyone on night shift yet. So, he stood doing his pre-op notes at one end of the nurses station, alone. His mind, though, was on a certain neonatal surgeon.

The incident at the zoo the previous day had really scared him, though he had tried not to show it in front of her. When he had been in Seattle, he had worried himself to death about her having an episode like that with no one to call on for help. Of course, back then, he had still had himself convinced that Mark was up for the job, if only so Derek could make an attempt to live his own life without worrying about them. And he found a time sink; a good replacement for his friends—a good one, but a replacement for what he truly wanted, nonetheless.

And the scene at lunch had not been any better, really. He had watched her obtain the number of some strange man whose eyes had lingered too long as she had walked away. But what had bothered him most had been how proud of herself she had been. The Addison he had known was confident to the point of domineering—in the most endearing way possible. But the woman who had sat back at the table afterward was a woman whose spirit had long ago been broken. If she would just let him fix her, he knew he could. He knew he had to, because he wasn't sure anyone else was capable at that point...

He felt the pressure before he saw the person behind it, the pain before knowing who dealt it. It wasn't until he was sprawled on the floor, gingerly touching his right cheek bone, that Mark Sloan swam into his blurred field of vision. He pulled his fingers away from his face to find that they were covered in blood. He could feel it running down his jaw, and put pressure on the wound with the sleeve of his lab coat before glaring up at his … _friend_.

"What the hell, Mark," he said, forcing himself to remain calm as he stood clumsily back up.

"_Addison! _Is what the hell!" He was fuming, but Derek noticed that he was flexing the fingers of his left hand. The tungsten ring on his fourth finger must have been what had opened his face up, he deduced.

"Addison?" he repeated dumbly.

Mark exhaled sharply, scoffing. "She's _living with you_!"

"Mark," he reasoned, pulling his sleeve away to see if the bleeding had slowed yet, "it's not..."

"Not what? We're married! We want to work it out!" The plastic surgeon was pacing, turning on heel every few steps, hands on hips.

Derek sighed, glancing anxiously at the small crowd pretending not to watch them. "It isn't like that," he stated, voice lowering. "She had nowhere else to go."

"_Nowhere to go_? That woman has more connections than anyone I know!"

It annoyed him that Mark was confusing "connections" with "friends," that he was making himself feel better by shifting some of the blame onto Derek. "Is that why you hit me?" he said, very quietly so only they could hear. "Because your wife has lots of connections? I was being a _good friend_ to her."

"No, you were seizing an opportunity!"

"_She_ called _me_!"

Mark stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowed. "Don't think I've forgotten how you felt about her, the real reasons you left New York."

It was taking every bit of his concentration not to bury a fist into his gut, but he managed through gritted teeth, "This is not the time or place."

Mark shook his head like he didn't even hear him. "I never thought you'd be so low."

Derek almost laughed—anything to release some of the overwhelming tension welled up inside of him. "This is ridiculous. I have a surgery." He began to walk by him, meeting his eye as he did. "We'll talk later."

He took the stairs to the surgical wing, the exercise assisting in his effort to de-stress; it wouldn't do to enter the operating room with thoughts only on his throbbing face. He was almost there when he heard footsteps racing up the stairwell below him.

"Derek!" Mark was yelling. "Wait up."

He did as asked; much of the animosity was gone from the plastic surgeon's voice. When he got to the landing Derek stood on, he was almost out of breath.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out between gasps for breath. "Let me sew it up for you. And then … I'm going to go get a gym membership."

Derek grinned, recognizing his friend's characteristically unorthodox apology.

* * *

_So, a lotta things happened in this chapter. I'm not sure of the flow of it all. What do you think? Does it work? Let me know your thoughts!_


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